Slow Burn
by MeiDarkreign
Summary: Their relationship didn't just happen. Over the course of many years, they have gone from enemies to husband and wife. Encompassing their entire relationship, this story will look at how Bulma and Vegeta first found their way to each other in the Three Years, to how they began to fall in love in the Seven Years, and how their relationship developed further in the years beyond.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N:_ I'm finally back! It's been about 4 years since I last published anything, and I want to make sure I never have such a long gap again. I've been wanting to write more Vegeta/Bulma stories for awhile, but the relationship I created in my previous stories no longer felt as good as I would have liked. With Dragonball Z Kai and Battle of Gods, I've gained a new perspective into the nature of their relationship, and I think it will make for a much more compelling story. I do apologize for those of you who were looking forward to sequels in the "A Lifetime of Learning" series, but I will be covering the Three Years, Seven Years, and beyond in this single story. My intention is that this will be as canonical and complete as a B/V story can get, but there will always be some errors. This story will also be much longer than any of my previous ones, but since it is a B/V story I am much more likely to update it on a regular basis: they're my absolute favorite couple in the history of anime, and I thoroughly enjoy writing about them.

I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama. No infringement is intended.

Warning: Mature content.

* * *

_Slow Burn_

Chapter 1

_I am the Prince of all Saiyans! I will not be beaten by that low class wretch! _

His injured muscles burned in protest under the strain of the heavy gravity, yet he would give them no rest. He'd not rest voluntarily. There existed but one goal in his life now: become stronger than Kakarot. Nothing else mattered to him.

The view screen nattered on at him, berating his dedication to his training. He'd underestimated how powerful a blast was that he'd produced a few days ago. His injuries were so insignificant, but leave it to the weak humans to think such an attack would do him major harm. The blue-haired female had stayed at his side and had refused to shut her damn mouth ever since he got back in the gravity room. After two days of it he'd learned to tune it out.

The next day, the woman ensured she would not be ignored further. Not even a noise came out of the gravity generator when he attempted to turn it on. Damn her!

* * *

Vegeta was pissed. That made her smile. As strong as he was, he still needed her and her skills. And she was not above blackmail. That idiot had nearly blown himself to pieces just a few days ago and was already putting his body through 400G's before it had had proper time to heal. Saiyans were tough, but their injuries still took a while to mend. He was so damned determined to surpass Goku that he would risk permanent disability.

He slammed his fist into the doorframe of the lab she was using. "Woman! You will fix the gravity machine!"

She glared at him. "Not until you've recovered. It's not going to do anyone any good if you get yourself killed before the androids show up."

A guttural, raw growl rumbled past his clenched teeth. "You will do as I say, or I will—"

"You'll what? Kill me? Blast this place to pieces? Face it, Vegeta, your threats are empty. One week of rest, that's all I ask." The growls intensified and his face contorted. She could just imagine all the terrible things he wanted to do, all the threats he'd like to make, and how pointless they all were.

"I will give you three days, and not a moment more," he conceded, turning and leaving before she could counter. It probably wasn't enough time for him to heal completely, but at least he'd be taking a proper break. She sighed.

It was curious how she felt about Vegeta. He was about as far from a good guy as one could be, and yet she did find herself sympathetic to the Saiyan prince. Though to his advantage, he'd helped her friends defeat Freeza and had committed himself to fighting the androids in three years' time. His end goal was to beat Goku, of course, and she really didn't want that to happen, but Earth needed him. And since he was living at the Capsule Corporation, he was her responsibility.

Vegeta managed to keep from injuring himself quite as badly after that, though she still thought he should rest more often than he did. They interacted very little, save for the few occasions they crossed paths within the house; her father took care of most of the repairs and upgrades to the gravity room, and they lived on completely opposite wings of her vast estate. One good thing to be said about Saiyan single-mindedness: it kept Vegeta out of trouble and out of her hair.

After a thoroughly uneventful day, rare now that she had a Saiyan living in her house, she decided she was long overdue for some wining and dining. Yamcha had barely taken her out since he'd been revived, spending most of his time doing who knew what. The guy _had_ been dead for several months, so she'd cut him some slack. After being alive for more months than he'd been dead, though, her patience with him was nearly done. He didn't sound particularly enthused when she called him up, even when she offered to pay, but he agreed to go on a date with her and she was determined to make it work.

* * *

Fifteen years ago…

_ The seedy merchant planet crawled with so many different species of flora and fauna that it would have taken years to try and name them all. Freeza had no reason to cull the planet, not while the merchant guilds gave him a generous cut of the profits. Why Nappa and Raditz decided to take him here, though, he couldn't fathom. He didn't need anything: food, fighting, and power were the only things he wanted, and they were more readily obtained elsewhere. His kinsmen had been coming here for years, for whatever reason. Whenever he had asked about their business they had always just smirked and chuckled. _

_ They were acting like they were about to introduce him to something special, with all their snickering. It was infuriating. "What are we doing here?"_

_ Nappa looked back at his prince. "You'll see soon enough. Lighten up, this'll be fun." He made a noise of displeasure, crossed his arms and continued to follow. He hated following, but this planet was so vast and cluttered he did not want to become lost: nothing would have been worse than having to call one them for help. _

_ After navigating through the maze of stalls they came upon a long row of patchwork buildings, pieced together from various sheets of scrap metal. Many people mulled around outside, mostly females in varying degrees of dress. Suddenly he got very worried. His heart was nearly pounding through his chest by the time they stopped in front of one of the buildings. It looked nicer than many of the others they had passed, and there were no females outside. There were, however, many inside. _

_ He would have bolted were it not for his pride: he would not let Nappa or Raditz see his fear, no matter what. A tall, aqua-colored female covered in a grey gown greeted them in the foyer. She spoke to his companions with familiarity. "Welcome back. We are always pleased to receive the proud Saiyan warriors. I see you have brought someone else with you this time. I assume he'll also be making use of our services?" _

_ Nappa stepped behind him, forcing him forward and cutting off his escape route. The big brute slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Yes ma'am. First time." This was not happening. He wasn't completely stupid, but he never imagined he'd be forced into this. _

_ The aqua woman led them from the foyer into the main room. He refused to move from his spot until Nappa urged him along. "What's this all about?" he asked. Raditz laughed. _

_ "Nappa and I discussed this, and we think it's high time you became a man. Fifteen is more than old enough."_

_ "I am a man," he protested, a little too loudly. They both laughed. _

_ "So you think. Don't worry, you'll enjoy it. Emerta's got the prettiest girls on the planet, clean too." Raditz sighed. "It's been way too long."_

_ They found themselves in what could only be described as a carnal buffet. Females of varying species, all similar enough to Saiyan physiology to make no difference, were strewn about sofas and chairs, wearing the barest hints of clothing. He felt his face flush. In truth, he'd never seen a naked woman in his life and he had no idea how to react. Nappa and Raditz wasted no time in picking out the women they wanted. _

_ "Choose whoever you want, and be sure to have fun," they teased, stalking out of sight after their whores. _

_ Emerta was not without mercy. Seeing him at a complete loss for what to do, she called out a name he didn't quite hear and a female from near the back of the room came forward. She was striking. Her long, black hair starkly contrasted with her pure white skin. She was of a height with him, a hard feat to accomplish as he was rather short for his age, and smiled innocently. Fortunately, she was clothed, albeit in small opaque undergarments. She grabbed his hand and led him down a hallway to a small room. He didn't have the mental capacity at this point to object. _

_ She sat down on the thick mattress and gave him a soft smile. "We don't have to do anything, you know. Your friends just need to think you did."_

_ He clenched his teeth. "They would know. We Saiyans have very keen senses of smell. I don't know how they stand it on this planet." She tilted her head and gave him a sympathetic look._

_ "Are you a virgin? Or do you not like girls?" His face burned and she laughed. "I'm teasing. Look, just try to relax. It's not going to be enjoyable if you're so nervous. Come sit with me." She patted the space on the bed next to her. He took a deep breath. This was all just a challenge. He never backed down from a challenge. _

_ She stroked his thigh once he seated himself. It sent a strange tingle up his spine and down his groin. "Have you ever kissed a girl before?" He shook his head. "It's really easy. I'll teach you." She lightly shifted her hand to his other thigh and turned his head with her other hand so they faced each other. Her lips were soft, encouraging. After a few minutes, his hands moved of their own accord and found her arm and the side of her face, with a need for more. So many tingles. _

_ A subtle movement brought her hand over his groin, and he groaned despite himself. She gave him one more kiss and pulled back. To his disappointment, she removed her hands from his body. Slowly, she unwound the garment covering her chest to reveal two small round breasts with dark nipples. His inhaled sharply. "I want you to touch them." And so he did. They were soft and malleable, yet the nipples hardened when he grazed them with his palms. The sensation was powerful, even through his gloves. She leaned forward again to kiss him, her hands splayed across his groin. _

_ Only a minute or so passed before he groaned again, her deft hands almost overwhelming him. She pulled back a little, still keeping his contact with her breasts intact. "Let's remove this armor, shall we?" He had never removed armor so quickly. She peeled his shirt over his head, skimming his abdomen and chest with her nails. It was maddening. He clenched his teeth to combat the horrible feeling of embarrassment as she knelt before him and removed his pants and underwear. The look she gave him relieved that feeling almost immediately. Her fingers caressed the base of his tail and he shuddered with pleasure. She kissed the head between his legs before she stood and pulled her underwear off. _

_ "There are so many things we could do, but I think we should get rid of that pesky virginity first. Don't you agree?" He nodded like an idiot. "Sit down and I'll get us started. Go ahead and do whatever you feel like after that." _

_ He sat down and couldn't help but focus on the dark patch of hair between her legs. She straddled him and he caught a brief glimpse of the jewel beneath the hair before she brought herself down on him. He cried out and grasped her tightly. He'd never felt anything like it before. Unlike most of the men he knew, he'd never had a reason to release himself. Now he knew better. She rocked up and down his length, eliciting more and more moans from him, releasing some of her own as well. Instinctively, he grasped her back and pivoted her onto the bed so she was underneath him. And then he thrust himself into her. He'd never felt a need so great in his whole life. Suddenly, his muscles tightened and the most unexpectedly pleasure rippled through him as he released himself inside her. _

_ He rolled over, removing himself from twixt her legs, and stared at the ceiling, his mind blank for several minutes. He'd had hard training sessions before, but nothing had ever been like this. Sweat dampened his brow and his muscles ached. Sex was a whole other workout. When his mind finally came back to him, he was very suddenly disgusted with himself. This carnal act had rendered him slave to the will of a woman, slave to his basest primitive urges. How could he have let go of control so completely? Maybe those idiots Nappa and Raditz were fine letting themselves become so vulnerable, but he was not. _

_ The girl gave him a strange look as he dressed himself and left the room, but made no move to stop him. He had to wait for another hour before the others had fucked their fill of whores. They paid Emerta and promised to come back soon. As soon as they exited, they each clapped a hand on one of his shoulders. _

_ "So how does it feel to be a man?" They grinned at him like fools. _

_ He grunted in response._

* * *

She didn't want to admit that the relationship was over. She and Yamcha had been together for nearly thirteen years, but the last few years had been rocky at best. Tonight's date just confirmed all the terrible feelings she'd been having.

The date had actually started out okay. Yamcha had seemingly gotten over whatever reservations he'd had about the evening and was being very genial. Dinner had been nice, the two of them reminiscing about old times. It was at the bar after that things quickly fell apart. Not long after Yamcha had gotten over his fear of women did his eyes start to wander. She brushed it off at the time because a lot of men tended to check out other women, even if they never intend to do anything other than stare. In the last few years, though, he had begun flirting with the women. Tonight, she had found out a lot of those conversations hadn't just ended with the flirting.

Some bimbo at the bar had called out to Yamcha, clearly having had too much to drink, and began to hang all over him. She talked about how great he'd been in bed, why he hadn't called her, and the whole time he didn't deny any of it. He was embarrassed, of course, but the look on his face told her what she'd needed to know. Never once had she cheated on him, despite ample opportunities, yet he'd cheated on her. She didn't want to know how long he'd been cheating, or with how many women: she was done. She angrily left the bar and drove herself home: she had a feeling Yamcha would be fine.

She kicked off her high heels in the entryway and stalked toward the kitchen with a purpose. The liquor cabinet was fully stocked and she intended to get blind, stinking drunk before the sun came up.

* * *

The female was in the kitchen, and the smell of alcohol permeated the air. With a grunt, he honed in on his target and did his best not to look at her. The older blonde female kept the refrigerator well-stocked and he was famished. Much as he disliked being around the humans, his hunger superseded everything.

Glass crunched harmlessly against his cheekbone, making an impressive sound. Dumbfounded, he whipped around to see the woman standing up from the table, seething. "Why do you men always have to be such jerks?" she screamed. She marched up to him and pounded a fist against his chest. "Why can't you ever just be honest with a girl, huh? If you're not happy, why stick around? Don't you understand what this does to us?" She was very inebriated. He gathered that she wasn't speaking about him directly. In fact, she probably didn't realize who she was speaking to at all. Still, he wouldn't stand for such treatment.

He gripped her by her upper arms and forced her against the refrigerator door, lifting her off the floor. She kicked and screamed futilely as he held her in place. "Woman, you will not strike me again! I am a prince, and will not be treated thusly. Go to bed and sleep off that poison you put into your body and leave me out of your problems." He released his grip and watched her slump to the floor. She tried striking him again, but he was already gone, taking his food to eat undisturbed.

As he ate he contemplated the blue-haired woman and couldn't help but find her to be an enigma. No woman had ever struck him before, at least no woman he wasn't trying to kill. It was said that alcohol fortified one's will and gave one a false sense of bravery. He wondered if she'd have that same bravery tomorrow when her mind was clearer. He could overlook the actions of a drunk fool, but he truly did wonder if she could provoke him to violence once sober. A curious notion.

* * *

_A/N: _I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I've always had an issue with the idea that Vegeta was a virgin when he began his relationship with Bulma: I've even tried writing a B/V story with him as a virgin, and I couldn't get past the first page. I also think his sexual history is important to the story. It was also fun to write. :) Let me know what you think. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hey everyone! Thank you for all your reviews! I'm hoping to update this story at least once or twice a month: I tend to do most of my writing on this story on the weekends. I hope you enjoy the second chapter. :)

**Warning:** Some mature content.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Her head throbbed, her stomach roiled, and her body ached. Especially her arms, for some reason. She managed to make it to the bathroom before retching the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Just how much did she drink last night? Hazily, she stripped out of the previous evening's clothing and stepped into the shower. The warmth soothed her muscles and dulled the pain pounding through her head, though her stomach still felt uneasy. A long time later she finally stepped out of the shower to face the day.

The image reflected in the mirror startled her. On each arm was a large mottled purple bruise, the darker points making out the pattern of a hand. She wracked her brain to figure out just what she'd done last night and then the memory assaulted her. Oh dear. A few bruises were nothing when she thought about all the damage Vegeta had wrought before. What in the world had possessed her to attack him? Lots and lots of alcohol was the obvious answer, but never did she think her self-preservation would turn itself off while she was drunk. She somehow transferred her anger at Yamcha to the prince.

She sank to the floor and curled her knees to her chest. That's right. Her relationship with Yamcha was over. There was no coming back from that. Thirteen years, wasted. She sobbed into her knees for several minutes before picking herself up and resolving to stop acting like such a victim. Yes, he was in the wrong, and yes, she was hurt by it, but there was no reason she had to stay at home sulking about it. Combine that with her strong desire to avoid Vegeta after last night's events, and she made up her mind to treat herself today.

* * *

Shopping had been wonderful, though she wished she could have worn something other than a long-sleeve shirt: it was very warm out. The last thing she wanted, though, was someone seeing the bruises on her arms and thinking she'd been abused. Vegeta would be less-than-pleasant if any police officers came around, and she feared he might feel no need for restraint where they were concerned. Then Goku would get involved, they'd have this huge battle, destroy a whole bunch of stuff, and be down at least one person for the fight against the androids. It was much easier to be hot and sweaty for a day than to have to deal with all that. At least her head wasn't as hot anymore.

Say what you will about the cliché of cutting your hair after a break-up, it was therapeutic. It wasn't too much shorter than it had been, just above her shoulders now, but she'd gotten rid of the perm. The curly puff ball was fun for a while, but it was so hard to style and looked too happy. This suited her much better.

By the sounds coming from the training capsule, Vegeta was still torturing his body at inhuman gravity levels. Saiyans were certainly built of some pretty strong stuff: just a fraction of what he was training at would kill most humans. It did make for an impressive sight, though. She would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about Goku in an inappropriate manner: all that constant training had left him lean and muscular, and damned if he wasn't attractive. With Vegeta trying to push himself even further, she was not surprised that he cut quite the handsome figure as well.

For all the food they ate, Saiyans stayed fit. There was not an ounce of fat on Vegeta, and she would've noticed if there were. He wasn't afraid to show off his body, wearing little more than the tight training shorts and sneakers. It annoyed her that he was in such good shape. She exercised a few times a week, but she would never be super-fit: her work didn't allow for that kind of dedication. Maybe she should try to work out a little more regularly, she thought, now that she was single. One tends to get a little soft in a steady relationship, and she wasn't getting any younger.

* * *

His training was progressing well, but he felt no closer to unlocking his Super Saiyan potential than he had before his training began. In a fight between him and Kakarot, barring transformations, he knew he could beat the fool. Kakarot was wasting his time training with his son and the Namekian: those two would only slow him down. Meanwhile, _he_ was training 12 to 14 hours a day at 400Gs. It was only a matter of time before he became a Super Saiyan and then Kakarot would rue the day.

He sat up in bed, ready for his next training session. After slipping on his training shorts and shoes, he headed downstairs to acquire some breakfast. Along the way he smelled something queer. It was the blue-haired woman, but much more pungent than usual. Since it was not out of his way he followed the scent to appease his curiosity. He stopped before a bank of windows. The woman was…training?

She was running on a contraption with her back towards him. Sweat was beading down her arms and legs, soaking through her tank-top at the small of her back and slicking her shorts to her skin. It was strangely arousing. He cursed. Like he would ever find such a weakling attractive. This is just what happens when he forgoes sex for too long. Many years ago he had sworn never to submit in such a primitive way again, and yet he inexplicably found himself succumbing once in a while. Now he understood the merits of such an act: tension relief, refocus, and pleasure. Domination also pleased him, particularly if he had been having an otherwise terrible time of things. But it had been nearly four years since the last time he had had the opportunity to fornicate. No matter, training was his top priority. He could ignore the female easily enough.

That's what he told himself, until a powerful wave of pheromones gripped him when he had nearly finished breakfast. The woman, keeping her eyes diverted, had emerged from the training room and had come to kitchen to rummage through the refrigerator. She pulled out some orange juice and leaned up against the door to drink it.

"Why are you staring at me?" It was then he realized she was no longer diverting her eyes.

"I see you've finally decided to lose some of your softness," he quickly retorted. She screwed up her face and took a step forward.

"Oh, and what if I have? You know, it's perfectly normal to exercise for vanity! I'm not going to let that bastard see me all gross and fat! I'm going to get even sexier and rub it in his face!" She no longer seemed concerned with his staring, having devolved into yelling about her own trivial problems. Unfortunately, she had fixed him as her target for conversation. "I mean, didn't Saiyans train even a little bit to attract mates?"

He grunted. Some did, the weaker ones. She took his silence as an agreement.

"I thought so. So it's not so hard to understand that I want to show other men that I'm a very viable option, and then Yamcha can suck it!" He grimaced.

"Woman, why do you insist on blathering your problems at me? Do I look like I care?" He'd put an edge on his tone, yet she didn't seem to care. Damned woman was unlike any other female he'd dealt with and it annoyed him immensely.

"Don't you ever get lonely, Vegeta? I do. You wanna know how many friends I've got? Not many, and the ones I do have are either off training or are too scared of you to show their faces. And it's not like it's easy to make new friends when most of them are just after my money or power. Just consider my 'blathering' as payment for your equipment and room and board. And if you don't want to have an actual conversation, I'll do all the talking. I'm really good at it, and I can go on forever."

A strange sensation gripped him and he knew he needed to leave the situation. He shoved the remaining food in his mouth, enjoying the look of disgust the woman gave him, and left for the gravity capsule. She belted some words at him, but he was too far away to hear them. He stood in the high gravity for a while, considering. That sensation he felt, it was very similar to the great desire he felt to fight an opponent just to see how they matched up. Yet, it was different in that he knew he could not fight the woman, not normally. He wanted to slam her against a wall, but the similarities ended there. Damn! It was only because she was the only woman around, he told himself. It tasted a lie, though.

* * *

It took two months of dedication, but she was finally able to fit back into an old high school dress she'd found shoved in the back of her closet. Perhaps it was a bit indecent now, though that was sort of the point. The tops of her breasts spilled over the top and the fabric clung along every curve: there was no way she'd be coming home alone in this thing! She wasn't wrong, either.

They were both somewhat drunk when they stumbled into her bedroom, but he maintained enough dexterity to unzip her dress. She tried to recall his name as he kneaded her breasts and came up short. Oh well, she'd ask him later. She pulled the dress down and slipped off her undergarments, and he took the cue to undress himself as well. He was quite attractive: it thrilled her to finally have the opportunity to be with another man. It was short-lived, however.

He groped between her legs, turned her over, and thrust himself within her unceremoniously. A few thrusts and he was done, leaving her raw and unsatisfied. They _had_ had a lot to drink. Maybe if they tried again in the morning? Nope, he was gone by the time she woke up. She didn't leave the bed all day.

She wasn't ready for this yet. It didn't feel good to pick up men, and it felt especially awful to be used and tossed aside. Maybe she would be okay with just dating, though it was so hard to find anyone that liked her for who she was and not for her money. Screw it. What did she need someone for anyway? She was sick and tired of being disappointed. As the sun set she got out of bed and stalked to her bathroom. She angrily pitched her pills, her condoms, and any other various items she no longer needed into the trash. She was going to dress comfortably and do whatever she damn well pleased, and there wasn't going to be anyone to impress.

Vegeta was drinking some water as she walked into the kitchen: it looked like he had just finished training for the day. She brushed past him to get some food. Normally, they said nothing to each other unless the prince needed something fixed in his gravity capsule. It startled her to hear his laugh.

"Did your fornication tire you out that much that you just had to stay abed all day?" She didn't know why she did it. She should have been happy that he was talking to her, even if it was insulting. Today was not the day for insults, though. She slapped him.

"Go to hell!" She held tightly onto the food container and ran. He didn't chase after her. Foolish, idiot, stupid, she cursed at herself, stuffing her face with cold food; her mind was too preoccupied to identify what exactly it was she was eating. First she had yelled at the prince, and now she had slapped him! If she got bruises from yelling, what would he do her for hitting him? She hadn't a clue if him not coming after her was a good or bad thing, but she wasn't about to go find out. Argh, why did he always have to push her buttons at exactly the wrong times?

* * *

The gall of that woman! He'd stood dumbfounded after she'd slapped him and scurried off. It hadn't hurt, of course, but that was beside the point. Anger, surprisingly, had not been the first emotion to come to him. Why would she do that? He could crush her in an instant if he wanted to. He didn't want to, yet.

Perhaps her interlude last evening had gone poorly, if her mood was any indication. It had been impossible to block out the sounds of it, even across the house. They had not lasted very long, admittedly. Maybe staying in her room was a way to deal with her shame. He shook his head. What did it matter? She was a distraction, he should not be dwelling on her problems. It was difficult, however, to put all thoughts of her out of his mind. He was certain it had everything to do with that obscene garment she'd worn yesterday.

By chance, he had been exiting the capsule as the woman was leaving her house. It took a great deal more effort than he cared to admit to stop gawking. She looked like she had been poured into her clothing and then some: the training she had been doing for the past few months had been very evident. It was not as though he had never seen beautiful women before, those dressed more obscenely at that, but she kept inexplicably interrupting his thoughts. And that damn garment was affecting his body now! It was blasted difficult to train when aroused.

Maybe he should just fuck her and get it over with.

* * *

She didn't see the prince for several days. It was true she was actively avoiding him, but she'd have thought she would have bumped into him sooner. At first it had been nice to not have to face him, though after eight days she had become so paranoid that she just wanted to get it over with. She had to apologize to him.

The day her parents left for the weekend, Vegeta found her. She was running simulations for a new capsule product if the laboratory, happily absorbed in her work. Slowly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. A loud bang startled her. As she clutched her arms, she saw the sound had come from a rather tense-looking Vegeta having slammed several training robots onto the metal workstation next to her. They looked badly damaged.

"I need new ones, and make them stronger this time," he growled. Why couldn't he ever be nice? That right there was why she had been avoiding him: apologizing to a jerk required her to actually feel bad about something. Right now, she felt like smacking him again.

"It wouldn't kill you to say 'please' once in a while," she ground out. "Fix your own damn machines!" His growl grew louder and an instant later he had her caged in her chair. Her heart pounded against her chest, but she wouldn't be intimidated by this asshole. "Go ahead, threaten me," she said as smoothly as she was able.

His demeanor changed. "You don't hold as much power as you claim, woman. You and your pathetic planet need me if that brat from the future can be believed." His voice was deadly quiet. It sent a shiver down her spine, pooling between her legs. Seriously? She was getting turned on by _this_? He had not moved, but their faces were mere inches from each other. He was more handsome than she had realized: despite all the damage his body had taken and all the scars marking his body, his face was miraculously untouched. He looked like a prince.

Nothing good was going to come of this.

Placing her hands on his chest and pushing away lightly, she said, "I'll make you new machines, just give me a few days. You know, you'd get a lot farther with people if you were nice once in a while." He allowed her to move him back from the chair, though a small part of her was sad the contact between her hands and his skin was broken: he felt _good_.

He wrinkled his nose then grunted, saying nothing as he exited. She took released a big breath of relief. Oh, this was not good. Vegeta was brash, arrogant, mostly evil, and damned sexy. There would be no tenderness with him, no future of any kind. Yet, who better to help her get over Yamcha? She shouldn't even be considering it, but it was very tempting.

* * *

Oh Lord, he was hard right now. He had not intended to get so close, but he had felt a great need to teach her a lesson. He had not anticipated her arousal. There was no mistaking it, though, and he had to leave before his reaction had become evident. And that had been on top of her touch. It had been over a decade since a woman's causal touch had aroused him so, and it was pissing him off. At least now he knew she was receptive to him, in some small fashion anyway. Rape had never sat well with him, though not because he believed it amoral: conquest was conquest, but there was never any sport in it. He preferred the mewling he got from the whores to cries of protestation anyhow. He had never fucked a woman who wasn't a whore, though, but the idea intrigued him.

She would succumb, and he would savor it.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


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